


Fairytale of New York

by jockwitch



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-IT Chapter Two (2019), Regaining Memory through the power of making out, Romance, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jockwitch/pseuds/jockwitch
Summary: One night can only change your life so much. But it’s Christmas Eve in New York City, and anything can happen.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 91





	Fairytale of New York

_You were handsome,  
_ _You were pretty  
_ _Queen of New York City  
_ _When the band finished playing  
_ _They howled out for more  
_ _Sinatra was swinging,  
_ _All the drunks they were singing  
_ _We kissed on a corner  
_ _Then danced through the night_

_\- Fairytale of New York, The_ _Pogues_

\-- 

Christmas time in New York is supposed to be magical. There is snow, and ice skating, and Santa is supposed to fly through Central Park at midnight on Christmas Eve, or something. At Christmas, you fall in love and reunite with family and get like, a pet penguin or something. New York is the place where Christmas is at its absolute best.

And Richie Tozier is having the worst Christmas of his life. 

He is finally on a real tour, a multi-city tour. Sure, he’s the opening act, and half the time the crowds don’t give a shit about a word he’s saying, but he’s on stage, doing comedy, and getting paid! After years of toiling away in Chicago, and Los Angeles, he finally made something of himself. 

The tour started on the east coast in Florida, and after a week they’ve made it to New York City for two shows. Tonight is Christmas Eve, and they have the night off to do whatever they please. Richie still isn’t that familiar with the rest of the crew, and definitely not familiar enough with them for what he wanted to do tonight anyway. 

When he told his friend back home about New York, he informed him how he _absolutely_ had to go to Greenwich Village and go bar hopping. 

“Maybe you can pick up someone new, so I don’t have to hear about you banging my exes anymore. By the way, Please avoid The-” 

“Calvin, it’s gonna be Christmas Eve, are people really going to be out at the bars?” 

“Richie, honey. It’s the Village. And it's Christmas. People will be out. You will have a fabulous time. If you meet a short man named Todd, however, I want you to leave whatever bar you’re in and don’t. Look. Back.” 

\--

By eleven P.M. on Christmas Eve, and Richie has so far, slipped on the street into a puddle of melted snow and trash, lost his hotel key, and had his phone die while trying to call one of the others because he also, conveniently, forgotten what the address for his hotel was. He knows it's somewhere in midtown, and he is in Greenwich Village, and that’s about it. He wanders the streets for a while, shivering, until he finds the first bar and goes inside. 

It is a quiet dive bar with wood panelling everywhere. There is a band playing in the corner, something soft and jazzy at the moment. Twinkle lights adorn the stage and the shelves behind the bar, casting a soft glow through the smoky haze. Older men, some grizzled with beards, some much more trim, business men type, sit at the bar and tables, chatting. A few wear santa hats, including the bartender, who looks the most excited to be here out of everyone.

Well. It is a gay bar. Just not the kind Calvin had told him about. But it's warm, and Richie is pretty sure his ass will fall off from the cold at any second, and he could use a drink after the ordeal he’s had. 

“What’ll it be?” 

“Do you have anything warm?” Richie asks, barely suppressing a shiver.

“I’ve got some mulled wine, that sound good to you, handsome?” The bartender says with a wink. Richie knows this is just a standard thing, and a way to get a good tip, but it still makes his cheeks heat up. He hasn’t quite gotten used to men flirting back at him just yet. 

“Uh..Yea. I’ll have that. Thanks.” 

He accepts his warm mug graciously, just holding it for a while to regain feeling back in his fingers. When he finally takes a sip, it makes his insides melt. He’s never really liked wine, it makes him a sad drunk, but this is spicy and a little sour and makes him feel cozy. 

Halfway through his second drink he hears the door open, and the bartender calls out a friendly greeting. 

“Hey sweetheart! What’re you doing here tonight? Thought you’d be out of town.” 

The most beautiful man Richie has ever seen slides onto the stool next him, smiling sadly. Why does he look so sad? 

“Change of plans, Kev. Can I have a mug?” 

“Absolutely, love.” He was already pouring it as soon as this mystery man had walked in, and hands it to him and gives him an affectionate pat on the cheek. 

Richie takes a loud sip of his own wine as the new love of his life blows delicately on his mug. 

“Have I seen you here before? You look familiar.” Mr. Dreamboat asks, looking at Richie over his mug. Richie, still mid sip, chokes at the fact that he’s been acknowledged. 

“N-No. I’m here for a show. I’m from out of town. So..."Richie digs for a solid pick-up line, but he comes up empty, "you come here often?” 

“Yeah, you're really keen with those observation skills." He’s smirking at him now, with a familiar twinkle in his eye.

Richie flashes what he hopes is a charming smile. "I went to school for it. Studying the obvious. Got honors and all that shit."  
  
"Oh Good, I was worried you would just be all looks, but clearly you’ve got some brains up there too.” The man's laugh is just as beautiful as his face, and Richie’s heart skips a beat. 

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve got a nice, big, girthy brain. And I know how to use it.” Richie whispers, putting his mug down and leaning in closer. He brushes their shoulders together and catches a whiff of expensive cologne and cinnamon and cloves, and he thinks he’s getting drunk on it, but that’s probably just the mulled wine talking. 

“You got a name, big dick brain?” 

Richie pauses. Now that he is slowly gaining notoriety, he is becoming more careful with who he sleeps with and how. He’s used fake names before, and for a second, he considers it. But something about this man feels trustworthy, like if given the chance, he would protect him from the devil itself. 

“My name’s Richie. Please tell me your name isn’t Todd. My friend said I can’t fuck anyone short or named Todd.” 

The man laughs, and its music to Richie’s ears. As he laughs, the bands slow songs picks up into a more upbeat, Irish style drinking song. Before he can even wave the bartender down, he’s back, and refilling their mugs with more wine. 

“It’s a good thing I’m average size, and named Eddie.” 

The warm feeling in Richie’s chest blooms. He tries to be more charming when he’s flirting, but something about Eddie is so familiar. Maybe he sees something of himself in him? Whatever it is, he has to tease Eddie. He just has to. And deep down he knows it will be well received. 

“Average? Average for elves maybe! I could pick you up in my arms and carry you like a little baby!” 

“Oh fuck you! 5’9” is the national average! I’m perfectly normal!” There’s passion behind Eddie’s words and hand gestures, but no real heat, no anger. 

This is the most comfortable Richie has felt around someone in...in...well, in a very long time. 

“Maybe where you’re from. In Los Angeles, we are all at least 5’10” or we are kicked out of Hollywood for good. LAX has a “You must be this tall to get in” sign at the gate and if you don’t cut it, You are sent down to Anaheim to become a puppet for It’s a small world!” 

“You’re just cocky ‘cause you don’t own a stepladder.” Eddie finishes lamely, “Are you from LA?”

“Yep. I’m here on tour, for stand-up. I’m a comedian.” It’s not exactly a lie, He’s lived there since he was twenty-two, and he hasn’t gone back to where he grew up since he was seventeen. He’s built for Los Angeles, and that’s his home. 

“What about you? Where are you from?” Richie asks. 

“BumfuckNowhere, Maine. I was supposed to go back there for the holidays but…”he trails off, getting that sad look in his eyes again. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re here! You made my Christmas a lot better already.” Richie nudges him with his shoulder again. “You’re like a little christmas miracle.” 

Eddie laughs distantly, “Glad to be of service”, and takes another sip of his drink. Behind them, the crowd cheers as the band rushes into another raucous drinking song. Richie hops off of his stool and holds his hand out to Eddie. 

“Wanna dance?” 

“With you? I feel like you’re gonna step all over my toes.” But Eddie is already putting his mug down, and pulling Richie towards an empty dance floor. In the distance, Richie hears someone wolf-whistle as Eddie twirls to face him. 

Once they get on the floor, they realize that neither really know _how_ to dance to this music. They start to make it up as they go, dancing close and spinning each other, going fast with the music. It’s not a slow dance, and it’s not the bump and grind of a sweaty club full of strangers, but it’s fun, and the other patrons in the bar to join in to make it a real party. 

When the song ends, everyone in the bar cheers, calling for an encore. The singer says they’ll be back in five, after a quick drink.

“You want another drink?” Richie leans in to whisper in Eddie’s ear, both of them breathing heavy from dancing. A shiver runs up his spine as Eddie grabs his bicep to pull him even closer. 

Eddie says something, but it doesn’t register because all he can think about is the small circle Eddie is rubbing on his arm. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Richie smiles dopily at him, 

“We could, Or…”Eddie’s eyes dart towards the bar where they had left their coats a few minutes before,”Well. It’s almost midnight. Want to get out of here? Maybe get a bite to eat? If you’re visiting, let me show you around.” He smiles up at him, nervous. Richie can’t help but burst into a grin. 

“Of course. Let’s get our coats. I’m dying for a famous New York ‘za anyway” 

Eddie punches the same arm he was stroking before, 

“Call it that again and I will abandon you in the middle of Brooklyn.” 

“Sounds like fun. If I find you again do I get a prize?” 

\-- 

Once outside, Eddie links arms with Richie as they walk in the direction he had come from earlier. 

“Can’t believe you chose this bar over Stonewall. Don’t you know anything?” Eddie said, gesturing to the brick building behind them. 

“What’s so special about-” 

“Never mind, Jesus Christ. Are you alright? I can feel you shivering?” 

Richie shrugged his shoulders up trying to stay warm in his shitty, flimsy coat. “Shut up. I’m not built for this weather.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Come on, you’re from Maine. Don’t act like you’ve never seen a real winter before!” 

Eddie is already moving onto the next subject, chatting away as he walks while Richie freezes in place. 

“I didn’t tell you I grew up in Maine,” says Richie, voice barely above a whisper. 

“What?” Eddie turns back to face him, “I’m sure you mentioned it. How else would I know that?” 

“I don’t know. I guess I said it at some point. Just forgot. Don’t really bring it up anymore.” Richie ignores the nagging feeling at the back of his head. He sees a flash of the color red in his mind’s eye, hears high-pitched laughter from somewhere in the distance. When he looks at Eddie, it looks like he just saw a ghost. He shakes it off and grabs Richie’s arm again.

“Come on. One of my favorite pizza places isn’t too far from here. Let’s see if they’re still open.” 

They’re able to catch the pizza parlor just before they close for the night, and take their slices with them as they walk from the Village to Washington Square Park, chatting and admiring window displays. In the distance, a choir is singing, celebrating midnight mass. Richie really wasn’t sold on New York at the beginning of the night, but with the combination of the snow fresh on the ground, the music in the air, and the company of a pretty boy who has not stopped touching him since they left the bar, he can’t help but fall in love with the city a little bit. 

When they make their way to the center of the park, the church bells ring out to signify that it’s midnight. Christmas Day. Richie stops to stand in front of Eddie, reaching a tentative hand up to his face. Eddie flinches from the touch.

“Sorry, I thought-” 

“No asshole, your hands are just freezing, haven’t you ever heard of gloves?” 

Eddie takes both of Richie’s hands in his own gloved ones and blows on them gently to prove a point. He keeps holding them as he steps closer to Richie, stepping into his space and standing up on his toes. Their noses brush as their warm breath mingles together. Eddies eyes are already closed, and Richie almost gets distracted by how long his eyelashes are when he remembers that he can be kissing this beautiful boy right now, so he does. 

The moment their lips meet, a door that had been shut to both of them for a long, long time begins to open. They both feel it, as the memories come back, and hold on to each other tighter. The kiss tastes like spiced wine and pizza grease and it feels like coming home for the holidays to someone you truly love and who loves you back but haven’t seen all year.

It’s perfect and it’s terrifying. Richie is pretty sure he’s starting to cry. Which isn’t very sexy of him. 

He pulls away and turns to quickly wipe away his tears, praying that Eddie won’t notice how his eyes are a little red. 

“Jeez Kaspbrak, give a man a little warning.” 

Eddie lets out a soft gasp, “I never told you my last name.” 

Richie whips back around, only to find Eddie’s eyes brimmed with tears too. Richie beams at him, he feels like he could fly, he’s so happy.

“Eddie, Where did you say you were from again?” 

Eddie laughs uneasily in response, “I knew you looked familiar. I just didn’t think-“ 

“I thought you knew me from my comedy or something!” 

“You’re right. The bad jokes should have been a dead giveaway.” 

Richie pulls him back into a hug, and Eddie follows, easy, pliant,

“You always loved my jokes, Eds.” 

“I hate when you call me that.” But he punctuates this with a kiss to Richie’s chin, so who can be sure, really. 

“So…” Richie starts, 

“So…” Eddie echoes 

“Now what?” 

“Let’s keep walking. I don’t want to go home just yet.” Eddie grabs Richie’s hand again, and awkwardly twirls him under his arm. 

“This would be better if you let me do it” Richie says from somewhere under Eddie’s armpit.  
“I thought it’d be cute!” 

“Let _me_ show you cute!” Richie goes to grab Eddie to dip him, but miscalculates how far to lean, slips on the stones, and they end up toppling over into the snow. 

“God do you ever change?! I swear you did some shit like this when we were kids, now my ass is gonna be all wet and-” 

Richie blinks at him, as Eddie rants from where he’s pinned under him. He wiggles beneath him, trying to get his hand free to do his signature angry karate chop he always did when they were kids. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

They mirror their own, dumbfounded looks at each other. 

“I mean...you already did, didn’t you?” 

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” 

This kiss is harder than the last one, more desperate. The cold is starting to creep into him, and he assumes it must be at least twice as bad for Eddie, who is pressed into the snow, and is arching up into him to get closer. Richie nips softly at Eddie’s lower lip, and thinks about how nice it would be to just freeze to death here, making out in the snow. 

Eddie gently pushes him off though, sitting up to brush snow off himself. 

“Okay, I’m losing feeling in my legs, let’s go.” 

They keep heading down towards the water, because, Eddie explains, it’ll be quiet, and pretty. 

“We can go look at the old churches, go to the water.”

Richie nods, thoughtful, “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”  
Eddie takes Richie’s hand in his again, 

“Follow me.” 

\--

“What do you remember?” Asks Richie. They have been walking for about five minutes, past NYU and its very dead campus. The two had been talking about spider-man before this, but the real discussion hung heavy above them, waiting. 

“I remember...I remember us. There was more of us. Seven. I can see their faces, but I can’t think of their names. Why can’t I remember their names?” Eddie looks up at street lamps, searching for an answer.

“I can’t remember them either, but I know they’re important. There was something happened to us that changed things. And I think that’s what made us forget.” 

“Does it freak you out?” 

“What? That the guy I was flirting with turned out to be my childhood best friend, and I didn’t figure it out till we made out? No not at all. That’s a normal weekend for me.” 

Eddie shoves Richie half heartedly, “Well, _I’m_ freaked out. How did we just completely forget our childhoods? I didn’t even realize it was missing until I saw you and then I just felt this hole, and-”

Richie leans in close to Eddie, breath hot on his ear, 

“And you wanted me to fill it?” 

“Beep beep, Richie! I’m trying to open my heart to you!” 

“That’s not the only thing you’ll be opening for me--Wait, where are you going?!” 

Eddie has let go of his hand and is walking ahead quickly.

“I don’t know you anymore! We have never spoken!” He calls back. 

“You can’t take back what we had! Our connection transcends centuries!” 

“We’ve known each other again for three hours, tops, asshole!” 

“Well if you wanted me to top you should have just asked!” 

From one of the buildings up above, a light turns on and someone yells at them to shut the fuck up. They freeze, looking at each other from twenty feet away, and then burst out laughing. Eddie gestures for Richie, and he runs up to catch him. 

“How do you think we’re going to remember more?” Eddie asks. Richie just remembered who he is, and just met him as an adult but he can read the emotions on Eddie’s face clear as day. The furrowed brow, the overworking of his lower lip, he’s trying to find the diagnosis, the answer to their strange circumstance. Even in the middle of this conversation, it feels like not a day has gone by since they were together, its so easy with him. He can trust Eddie with this uncertainty, and he feels like Eddie trusts him wholeheartedly as well. 

Richie so desperately wants to help, wants to ease this fear and fill in the blanks and figure out why the fuck both of them just forgot a signifigant portion of their childhood. Richie looks into Eddie’s eyes, and thinks carefully about how to answer this question. 

“Well. We can try making out more?” Richie suggests, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Eddie rolls his eyes with a fond smile. 

“Nice, but I don’t think that’ll solve anything. Did you remember anything more when we were in the snow?”  
  
“Well I don’t hear any of your big ideas! ” 

Eddie lets out an exaggerated breath, wisps flowing around him like smoke. 

“I guess, we can talk about it. What exactly we remember. Like how I remember once, I broke my arm and couldn’t do much one summer, and you would sneak through my window and bring me comic books and junk food at night so I wouldn’t get bored or lonely.” 

“Yeah, I remember doing that because I couldn’t let your mom know I was two-timing her, especially with her own son. Could you imagine the drama! The fallout!” 

Eddie grimaces like he smells something fowl. “Ugh, I remember the mom jokes too, you never fucking stopped with those.” 

“It’s how I show my love, Spaghetti. You know what I remember about you? Your fanny packs. You even had a spare set of glasses in one of them for me for a while.” Richie also remembers that feeling of being cared for, and caring for Eddie in return, and feeling like he was being seen as a real person for the first time, not a troublemaker, or a class clown, or a four-eyed faggot, but as Richie. He doesn’t say that much, however. 

Maybe he’ll save that for the second date. 

Richie keeps talking. He talks about the arcade, and going to the movies, and spending time in a hole in the woods with those friends with blurry faces and fuzzy names. 

“I remember a lot of B names, but that's about it” Eddie suggests. He’s had plenty of his own stories as well, about the two of them swimming in the quarry, and the time they stole from the pharmacy to help out their friend, or just about how he used to sit and watch the trains go by, fantasizing of hopping on and letting it take him to a new place, a new life. 

Without them really noticing, their feet take them to Trinity Chapel. Once upon a time, this must have been a magnificent building, but now it sits small and quiet against the monster skyscrapers of the Financial District. A humble peasant against giants. It’s not Richie’s thing at all, considering he hasn’t been in a church in over a decade, but he falls in love with it. There’s probably a metaphor in this that he’s missing. 

He leans into Eddie more, shivering not from the cold, but from the presence of a building full of history that is well-remembered, when his is just being re-discovered. 

The church bells ring. It is now two on Christmas morning. For a moment, Richie feels like he should get on his knees and pray, to thank God for guiding him to Eddie, or beg for forgiveness for being what he is, maybe both. He waits for an answer, but Trinity stares back at him with it’s stone facade, empty and cold. 

“Want to keep walking?” Eddie has his arm wrapped around him now, and Richie nods, eyes not moving away from the spire of the chapel. 

As they walk down the block, Eddie has to keep holding onto his hand to make sure he doesn’t trip, as Richie looks back, watching as Trinity disappears into the winter night. 

“Are you hoping if we walk far enough we’ll find answers?” He asks, trying to shrug the church off his mind with minimal success. 

Eddie shrugs in response, “I thought it might help. Besides…”, he trails off. 

“Besides what?” 

“It’s nothing. Look, we’re almost to Battery Park. We can see the Statue of Liberty from here.” And then he’s pulling Richie along again, almost running, right past a damaged golden orb that makes Richie want to pause, but he knows there is no saying stop to a determined Eddie. 

“There she is!” Eddie announces, with an uncharacteristic flourish. Richie looks at Eddie, and back at the statue, watching carefully over the bay. 

“There she is.” Richie echoes. 

They stand there in silence for a moment, admiring the view. 

“So. When is she going to start dancing?” asks Richie. 

“What?” 

“You know, like in Ghostbusters 2, at the end-” 

Eddie groans, and begins to walk away again, down the path along the water. 

“You’re always so good at killing the moment, Tozier.” He grumbles loudly. 

“What moment? Were we having a moment?” Richie has already caught up, and is walking backwards to look at Eddie. 

“I dunno. Maybe? Whatever.” 

“Can you tell me at least? I know it's like, we just met but if I fucked this up somehow again, please tell me so I can fix it.” 

“I dunno if its you. Or me. Or just both of us. Fuck” Eddie presses his hands into his eyes, groaning again, “But I realized on the way here, you’re gonna leave, and what if we just forget this? What if we forget tonight too?” 

Richie opens his mouth to say something, but for once, he can’t think of anything. Not even a stupid joke. 

Eddie steps into his space, looking him dead in the eye, “I don’t want to forget you again, Rich. I lost you once. I’m not going to again.” 

“We’ll figure something out. Right? We always came up with something.” The thought of forgetting Eddie again had never occured to him, because he’s a fucking idiot, and now that it's a possibility in his mind he feels frozen in place. 

Eddie’s warm hand grabbing his own brings him back into reality. He looks down, and sees that he removed his glove to hold onto him, skin to skin. Richie laces their fingers together and brings them up to his lips.   
  


“Let’s walk back to my place, and figure something out.” Eddie says, eyes shining. 

“Together.” says Richie. 

“Together.” 

\-- 

They decide, on the way back, that they will both write notes for each other about tonight, and how they know each other, with phone numbers so they can get back in touch. If they forget. Richie hopes they don’t forget. 

“You can sleep with me tonight, and we can do it in the morning? Unless you want to now, because what if we forget in our sleep? And I freak out on you because you’re a stranger in my bed and I mace you on accident?” 

“Has this happened before?” There is a significant pause from Eddie after Richie asks this question. 

“Eddie--” 

“It was ONE. TIME.” 

“Oh my god, You absolute bastard! What is wrong with you?!” Richie has to lean against a building to wheeze from laughing so hard as Eddie scrunches himself up into a tighter and tighter ball of embarrassment and rage.

“I had blacked out the night before, and he came into my room from the bathroom and woke me up and I just...went for the mace in the nightstand!” 

“Did you ever see him again?” 

Eddie starts walking away again. Richie howls out with laughter. 

“Eddie, you sly dog! I can’t believe you managed to mace a guy and you were still able to fuck him again! You must be the lay of the century!” 

The glare he shoots back at him would be enough to make Richie’s balls shrivel and die if he was anyone but himself, and was insanely attracted to everything this man does. 

“Keep talking like that and you’ll never find out, will you?”

Richie stops laughing after that. Though he will chuckle occasionally to himself on the walk back, and Eddie will elbow him in the side each time, no matter how much Richie proclaims his innocence. 

\-- 

Eddie’s apartment is neat, but decorated in a way that is explicitly _him._ He has framed comic books and other pop art on the walls, and when they enter, they are greeted by a very vocal tortoiseshell cat named Leia who immediately attaches herself to Richie. 

“Well I can’t forget you now, with this little lady I have to come back for.” He jokes, scratching her under the chin. Leia purrs loudly in agreement. 

Eddie loans him a pair of sweats and a shirt to change into to sleep in, but before, pulls out a polaroid camera from a closet somewhere. 

“I thought maybe, if we had pictures, that would help too.” He toys with the camera a little, as if he’s ashamed to be asking. 

“That's a great idea, can we take them together?” 

Eddie nods, as Richie stands next to him and they angle the camera to fit them both. Right as Eddie takes the picture, Richie plants a fat kiss on the side of his cheek. He can feel Eddie giggling against his lips. 

The polaroid spits out the picture, and Richie, still attached by the mouth, blows a raspberry on Eddie’s cheek. 

“Gross!” Eddie squeals, “Why are you such a twelve year old?” 

“It pays the bills, baby. What can I say.” 

Eddie grabs his arm and wrestles him into frame for a second picture,

“So we both have one. And never call me baby, ever.”

“Okay, honey.” 

This time, Eddie presses a kiss to Richie's temple, soft and sweet, as the flash goes off. 

Richie hopes that one will get to be his. 

They sit on the couch, pen and paper in hand, with Leia curled up in between. It is creeping towards four in the morning, and they are both trying to write a good enough letter for the other. 

“I think I’m done.” Eddie says, putting his pen down and yawning. 

Richie is still scribbling away. He’s scratched out a lot, and had to restart once already. He’s scared that the written form of himself will not be worth it to Eddie to find. One look at this note, and you can tell he’s a mess. I mean, they met in a bar on Christmas Eve, for fuck’s sake. Eddie seems to have his life together, he doesn’t need Richie mucking it up again. 

“You’re overthinking this. You’re being like me.” Eddie pulls him out of his head and back to the living room. Richie rubs at the couch, feeling the fibers scratch against his palm, tethering him back to reality. 

“Almost done? I’m tired.” Eddie pokes him with his pen, nudging him for an answer. Richie yawns in response. 

“Just a few more minutes.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna put yours in your coat so you don’t lose it.” 

Quickly, Richie scribbles down an end that he hopes will make this whole thing seem worthwhile, and folds it up to put on Eddie’s coffee table. 

“I’m ready for bed now.” he calls out to the quiet apartment. 

“In here!” He follows the sound of Eddie’s voice, into a cozy bedroom. Eddie is already wrapped up under several blankets. Richie joins him, willing the blush in his cheeks to go away.

“So uhm...goodnight.” He whispers. He is decidedly resisting the urge to kiss Eddie, who looks just as flushed as he does. 

“Yeah, goodnight.” says Eddie, before turning off the light. 

It is painfully domestic for a first date, meeting, hookup, whatever this is. This is the first time, that he can think of, that he’s shared a bed with a man his age without fucking first, and he’s been freaking out about it since he went to go change into Eddie’s too short sweats in the bathroom half an hour ago. 

He lies there, stiff as a board, until sleep finally takes over. 

  
  


An alarm beeps at eight in the morning, and it rips Richie out of his slumber. He tries to move his arms to make it stop, but he finds himself pinned under Eddie, who is just beginning to stir. 

He sighs contently when he realizes that remembers who Eddie is, what happened last night. 

The room is blissfully quiet again, as Eddie slumps back into the bed, mumbling softly against Richie’s back as he throws an arm loosely around him. 

He knows he has to leave. He has to leave soon, because he’s dangerously close to falling asleep again, and he needs to get to the venue, and find his way back to the hotel, and charge his phone again. 

He needs to leave, but he knows what will happen next, and it terrifies him. 

There’s no world where he can just stay, though. Leave the tour and his career and become Eddie’s live in pet so they don’t forget each other. 

He slowly, carefully, rises from the bed. Eddie shifts, grabbing at the empty space where Richie just was. He ruffles Eddie’s hair gently, and presses a kiss to the top of his head, because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. 

\-- 

Richie tucks the letter from his coat into his suitcase for safe keeping, and the rest of the tour passes by in a blur. 

\--

Three weeks later, he’s back home, with a well read, well worn letter and a sudden phobia of his phone, when he finally gets a phone call from a number with a New York area code.

“Hey Richie! It’s Eddie. You...You remember me right?” 

“Eddie! How could I forget your beautiful, tight little bod?” 

He can hear the eye roll over the phone. It fills him with intense fondness. 

“So…”Eddie starts. 

“So,” Richie echoes. “When would be a good time for me to come visit?” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/jockwitch)!


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